The Delgados
The Complete BBC Peel Sessions
Chemikal Underground
originally published August 9, 2006
The Delgados formed in Glasgow in 1994, playing noisy pop distinguished by alternating female and male vocals. Music biz types loved them early, so their entire career was documented in live sessions recorded for the BBC Radio show of legendary deejay John Peel, all of which are collected on this double CD. We follow them from racket ("Lazerwalker") to slightly more melodic racket ("Under Canvas Under Wraps") to amazing ("Pull the Wires from the Wall"), feeling some of the excitement they must have experienced as they got so much better so fast, and reading about that excitement in the entertaining liner notes, which also prominently feature epic drinking binges that blur the band's recollections of the recordings.
Collaboration with producer Dave Fridmann turned them toward complex orchestral pop that bore little resemblance to their earlier work. The corresponding radio sessions add strings, flute and piano; the band covers ELO, the Dead Kennedys, and a ballad with - take note, Bob Hay - lyrics by Scottish poetry giant Robert Burns. The only glaring omission is their woozy manifesto "All You Need Is Hate," but the last track here, an acoustic version of that song's inclusive antithesis "Everybody Come Down," could cap any career.
They were adored by critics and bands from the Wedding Present to Elastica; they were central to the late-'90s Scotland scene that produced Mogwai, Arab Strap and Belle & Sebastian, but the Delgados broke up last year before enough people heard them. Here's a chance to catch up.
Robert RhudyThe Sadies
In Concert, Volume One
Yep Roc
originally published August 9, 2006
Not much mystery here - just some good-ol’ shitkickin’ alterna-country tunes by a bunch of sweaty white dudes in snap-button shirts who worship at the Altar of Cash on days that they’re not tossing money into the communion tray at the Church of Gram.
But wait: The Sadies' two-disc live album, In Concert, Volume One, is different in a few respects. It has star-power (a Blues Explosion-less Jon Spencer, Neko Case and The Band’s Garth Hudson, among others); a badass collection of songs by both the Sadies and more famous acts (Pink Floyd’s “Lucifer Sam,” the Mekons’ “Memphis, Egypt”); and a recording quality that’ll leave you wondering if this wasn’t recorded in the studio with audience noise added afterward. Little surprise that The Band’s Hudson plays keys on In Concert, since the two discs here, packed with jams that veer from the blues to folk to art-rock, sound uncannily like The Band’s The Last Waltz. While In Concert doesn’t quite reach those same flights of grandeur, it certainly does make you wonder: why aren’t albums made like this any more?
Mark SandersBaby Calendar
Gingerbread Dog
Happy Happy Birthday To Me
originally published August 9, 2006
Hey you, band that’s pretending to be cuter than you are, did you really think you could sucker me with a cute name and a cute album title and a really, really cute album cover? Apparently. There was initial disappointment that Baby Calendar is far less twee than outer appearances would let on.
The band would be prog if more concerned with being skilled instrumentally or vocally, but it ends up in a strange in-between range, with the occasional echo of Murder Beach (the “hey” on “Traffic in the Tropics”; keys on “Laboratories”), but mostly reminding me of Fall Out Boy. There are surprisingly heavy drums and low-end-of-the-spectrum production, and it’s either been excessively scrubbed or not messed with enough; the songs are longer than expected (hell, one’s almost five minutes); and - this is where that comparison comes in - a deep sense of the '90s, of the dorks versus the cool kids, of rock and your first band.
All that said, the one less-produced song, “Skibbledeebee,” gives a hint of what the group might be like live: tambourine, goofballs, singalong, enthusiasm. The melodies are good, and so are the riffs; “Lemon Snaps,” for example, does that '90s thing in a snappy way. I recommend a bit more editing, either more or less rock and an effort on the part of the listener both to listen on a lower-fi format than headphones, which can be unforgiving at times, and to be nice because the band quite clearly is.
Hillary Brown Baby Calendar is playing Popfest at Little Kings on Wednesday, Aug. 9.Keith John Adams
Pip
Happy Happy Birthday To Me
originally published August 9, 2006
This latest album by songwriter Keith John Adams is rife with witty lyricism. Seriously, his words are great. “Inconsequential Thoughts” has him desiring to know the minutiae of his crush’s brain (“All the battles you never quite fought / All the treasures you never quite sought”). “Ever Been You?” questions the metaphysical reality of those he comes into contact with (“Is your mind a theater? / Is your life really real?”). Beyond his obvious skill in this arena, the music he composes to accompany his thoughts is of the particularly Anglo variety. It’s not wimpy indie-pop, but neither is it it any way power pop.
Although catchy almost to the point of commercial jingle confectionary, courtesy of his liberal use of toy piano, some of the tunes are just so precious sounding that the music detracts from the totality of the song. A perfect example is the aforementioned “Every Been You?” If I hadn’t read the lyric sheet, I might have further ignored the song. Thankfully, this doesn’t happen often on this record. Other songs, such as “Dad,” “Never Look Down” and “Torch,” are wonderfully constructed tunes featuring tasteful guitar lines with just the right amount of fuzz-'n'-throb. In this respect, Adams find himself in the musical lineage of The Go Betweens and early-Soup Dragons. Fans of the labels Flying Nun and Stiff will love this to death.
But… there’s the rub: on the one hand, this is a record that, in actuality, deserves a fair showing and definitely has an audience out there. However, with rare exception, fans of this type of music tend to also relish its obscurity. Indeed, it’s the unknown-ness that is as much a part of the package as the music. And although this album is no This Year's Model, it’s a decent outing that will hopefully raise his profile in the States. After all, obscurantist fools, a man’s gotta eat.
Gordon Lamb Keith John Adams is playing Popfest at the 40 Watt Club on Friday, Aug. 11.The Prids
...Until The World Is Beautiful
Five03
originally published August 9, 2006
The Prids mean it. Seriousness and sincerity abound on the Portland band's second album …Until The World Is Beautiful. For real! Listen to this guy's voice; you can tell he's not screwing around. Dude's got important things to say, and he hopes to say them as importantly as possible. And that's what keeps this record from being great; the dourness is stifling and overwhelming. Not that I want a clown for a frontman, but a little bit of levity goes a long way, you know?
See, the Prids are quite adept at making quality rock music that could have easily existed at any point in the last 28 years. They're slightly gloomy, a little depressed sounding, yet still catchy, energetic and anthemic. As such, the Prids sound like pretty much every good British rock and roll band since 1978, as well as dozens of far less-than-good ones. At various points in time, they would have been labeled post-punk, college-rock, alternative, shoegaze, indie rock, Brit-pop, post-punk again, and who knows what else. It's a sort of timelessness that I find comforting. You could compare the Prids to Interpol, or other recent bands plowing similar acreage, but it's more a case of parallel evolution and similar inspiration than copycatting or style-jumping. The Prids are like an episode of "VH1 Classic Alternative" given form and function.
Unfortunately, the music comes with singing, and that's where the Prids fall apart. David Frederickson sings like he's carrying the weight of the world in his Adam's apple. Between the mumbling baritone and the portentous delivery, the singing is far too serious-minded and/ or sad-faced to countenance. The occasional backing vocals from Mistina Keith help out a little, but even with them and some great music, Frederickson's performance remains hard to swallow.
Garrett Martin The Prids are playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Friday, Aug. 11.Zero 7
The Garden
Atlantic
originally published August 9, 2006
This time two years ago America was slouching in movie theaters seats, enjoying the cool repose of air conditioning. The film was Garden State, and whether you liked it or not, its soundtrack was remarkable. The third track, “In the Waiting Line,” introduced many of us to U.K. duo Zero 7.
Their latest release, The Garden, shows Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker recharged and inspired. The album is less hectic than previous work. Binns says that his move out of bustling London helped to inform the mood. Self-discovery underlies the entire album and this is best attributed to Binns’ major DIY project - building a home studio in the English countryside. Binns confesses that the construction provided introspect and allowed him to approach The Garden with a fresh outlook.
First track “The Future,” featuring José Gonzalez, is guided by Steve Miller sensibilities; some acoustic steel string finger-picking bolstered by laid-back synth melodies and compressed monotone vocals. The next track is the most addictive. “Throw it All Way” is a lighthearted summertime tune with soulful vocals courtesy of Australian indie-pop singer Sia Furler. Furler lends her voice on several tracks, including “This Fine Social Scene," a haunting and upbeat minor ballad with a tight Jonny Greenwood-sounding solo.
The U.K. team tromps over countless genres for their third effort, but ends up with a deeply soulful and meditative album. The Garden is easily the most refreshing record of the summer, and a must have for late afternoons in the hammock with a drink.
Ian Wheeler José Gonzalez and Zero 7 are playing at the EARL in Atlanta on Saturday, Sept. 23.Dinosaur Jr.
J Mascis Live at CBGB’s: The First Acoustic Show
Rhino
originally published August 9, 2006
In retrospect, the ‘90s weren’t a remarkable time for Dinosaur Jr. After Lou Barlow and Murph exited the picture, the group degraded into something of a classic-rock mutant. Feedback, fuzz and ear-bleeding volume usurped the noisy and gut-crunching punk/ alt-rock gems of early albums, like Dinosaur, You’re Living All Over Me and Bug.
Sure, it still looked good on paper, and J Mascis did have a few good songs left in him (“The Wagon” from Green Mind and “Start Choppin” from Where You Been come to mind). But these truly great songs were growing fewer and farther between. J Mascis Live at CBGB’s: The First Acoustic Show captures a Dinosaur of another color. The fog has been lifted, exposing the raw subtleties of songs like “Flying Cloud” and “Throw Down.”
Hearing these songs in such a jittery and naked state adds depth to Mascis’ normally murky, sunken din. There’s not much to hide behind as he strums and bellows through “Every Mother’s Son,” “On the Run” and “Repulsion.” As a result, the aggressive façade that accompanies the melancholy of Dinosaur Jr.’s proper albums has melted away, leaving nothing but earnestness and the naturally nerdy intonations of Mascis’ voice in full view. The First Acoustic Show offers an unfettered glimpse at the real songsmith hiding inside such a Jurassic sound, and an invitation to check out the man standing behind the curtain.
Chad RadfordBusta Rhymes
The Big Bang
Interscope
originally published August 9, 2006
You, too, probably heard the first single off this album, “Touch It,” an unsuccessful club track built on a Daft Punk song that didn’t do so well in its first incarnation, and wondered, “How does Busta Rhymes still think he’s relevant?” We have moved on to others who do mental problems as their primary schtick and others who make a living off yelling directly at the camera. I’m sure there’s someone out there with comparable hair. The man was an irrelevancy, but what he’s done, with the help of Dre and a slew of high-profile guests, is put out an album that stands as a community education course in how to reclaim your ground.
Sometimes we forget just how delicately painted and deeply focused Dre’s production (and supervisory touch) is; in this age of snap and Storch (not to denigrate those things, which have their place), it is like sitting in an Eames lounger to play this album through your headphones: well-designed, comfortable, artistic and surprising in all of those elements. “Touch It” is easily the weakest song of the 15 tracks, and follow-up singles “I Love My Bitch” (featuring Kelis and will.i.am in an aggressively danceable ode to strong women) and “New York Shit” (with Swizz Beatz, an ode to the East Coast sound that rides as smoothly as most California jams) present a much better picture of how things go.
“Been Through the Storm” is a Stevie Wonder collaboration that does the rap soap opera/ cautionary tale proud; “In the Ghetto” samples Rick James extensively with punchy, orange-juicy horns; J. Dilla lends his distinctive slightly echoey sound to “You Can’t Hold the Torch” (featuring Q-Tip) which manages to make lecture tracks to the younger generation about the old school not only palatable, but genuinely enjoyable; and penultimate song “I’ll Do It All” is among the most loving combinations of tune (raunchy low wa-wa; tinkly fairy flute and keyboard line flitting around; highly rhythmic clappy beat on chorus) and message to be released this year - it would not be inappropriate played at a wedding. Buy this album if you love hip hop. It clearly loves you back.
Hillary BrownMSTRKRFT
The Looks
Last Gang
originally published August 9, 2006
As I stumbled into the club, disoriented and more than a little drunk, the heavy bass, vicious hi-hats and robotic vocals assaulted my senses. “Where the hell did I wander to?” I thought. “And what happened to my friends?” The jam, aptly titled “Work On You,” was indeed doing a number on me, in all its Daft Punk-aping splendor.
Just to make sure, I looked toward the decks. No French robots there. Instead, Jesse Keeler from dance metal twosome Death From Above 1979 stood in front of the turntables. Alongside him was DFA1979's producer Al-P. As I was processing this information, the beat blended into “Easy Love.” More robots. More awesome. Involuntarily, my limbs started moving. Something was happening.
For a solid 45 minutes, my world was a blur. Female vocals (the human kind) and fake handclaps sprinkled across “She’s Good for Business,” a brutal beat throughout “Paris,” more fake handclaps (but to be fair, we were all clapping along at this point), more beats. Destruction on the dance-floor. I was in heaven.
As “Neon Knights” finally came to a close, I found myself slung over a speaker, panting heavily, covered in sweat. I still didn’t know where my friends were, but at this point, I no longer cared. I just wanted more.
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